


Sufficient Respect To The Uniform

by verybadhedgehog



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon Universe, M/M, Uniform Kink, both are bossy bottoms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-06 21:34:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11609397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verybadhedgehog/pseuds/verybadhedgehog
Summary: Kylo Ren has a bit of a thing for Hux's little hat. Kylo Ren tends to get what he wants.





	Sufficient Respect To The Uniform

On the way from meeting room B to the bridge, General Hux stayed in pleasant conversation with Commodore Mandell — until a tall, broad, figure in swathes of cloth appeared, turning on to the main access route from a cross-corridor.

Hux sighed. What did he want _now?_

The figure approached further.

“General Hux!”

Hux sighed again, a little more deeply this time.  “I’ll catch you up, Mandell.”

“Yes, sir, of course.” 

She marched quickly and neatly on towards the bridge, as General Hux slowed his steps. He drew to a halt and let Kylo Ren come to him. It was more orderly than risking a collision in the corridor.

“I’m not keeping you from anything?” Ren asked in a tone that, even behind the vocal distortion of his mask, suggested that he was playing games of some sort. This, Hux did not have time for.

“I am on my way to the bridge, as you can see. I intend to brief central systems section on some changes to resource allocation. If that’s at all interesting to you.”

Ren’s bulk and presence pushed Hux closer to the wall of the corridor. “You’d presume where my interest lies or does not lie?” He laughed, a little burst of static. “That did not stand you in good stead before…”

“No. Well.”

Ren leant against the wall. “You’re not wearing your little hat.”

Hux bristled. “Why would I be wearing my command cap — I’m on bridge duty, not addressing my soldiers.”

“So I have to find you barking at your soldiers if I want to see you wearing the hat?”

“What is the…”

“I like it. The hat. It suits you. It’s rather charming.”

“Ren, this isn’t the time…”

“As you say,” he said, and strode off, leaving Hux feeling as if _he_ were the one who had wanted the conversation to continue, when of course it hadn’t been in the least like that. Damn Kylo Ren. Damn him.

He set off again for the bridge. With any luck, Mandell would have assembled the lead and deputy lead of central systems already.

***

Later on, he made a quick observation pass-by of the signals intelligence unit at their consoles and listening stations. Among them were two new officers from the latest intake. One of them, seated at a listening station monitoring a frequency used by a Resistance-affiliated group, seemed to be finding the collar of his uniform uncomfortable. He would soon get used to it, or discover that he could move the fastening hook a few millimetres. Stoicism or initiative — both good qualities.

He found himself recalling his first uniform — his first actual commissioned officers uniform. A step up from his school uniform and his cadet uniform, with his first rank band on the sleeve. _Ah_ , all the honour and pride contained in that package. He remembered how he’d tried it on for the first time. Learning to fasten and unfasten the hook and eye fastenings quickly. And, of course, getting used to the fit of the collar. Figuring out the best way to press the tricky fold at the cuff of the breeches, too — cadet’s uniform pants had had no such fold and far less flare.

And, as a newly minted officer, one had one’s command cap. With it came a new drill — to unfold and brush it so as not to let dust and fluff accumulate in the fold, then refold carefully and steam press. And then there were the regulations on how to wear it. When to wear it. When to leave it stowed. When to take it off when speaking to a superior, and when to leave it on. How to hold it when at rest, and how to hold it when being addressed by a superior.

Kylo Ren didn't know or care about these things. He took some interest in what the Stormtroopers did, and the practical points of their armour, at least when he was in action with them. Ship-bound officers held no interest for Ren — or so Hux _had_ thought during all the time he'd been fascinated by the Knight and had believed his interest to be safely unreciprocated.

Ren didn't truly understand anything of the military life, nor of the exile life. He’d never had to wear hand-me-down uniforms as a child, and worse, as an adolescent, limbs outgrowing sleeves and pant legs, outpacing the rate of availability of newer sizes. Shrugging and shrinking yourself to hide the strip of skin at your wrist or ankle making an embarrassment of an insufficiency of fabric. Getting yelled at by an instructor or worse, father. _Posture, boy! Get yourself to the stores with your measurements._

He recalled, too, the proud day when he had received his new General’s uniform, a few days before his promotion ceremony. The then Colonel Hux had walked with a lighter, prouder, and possibly even taller step as he carried everything back from the uniform stores to his rooms, thinking how it would feel to wear them, how their subtly different cut and their finer fabric would flatter him.

He remembered weighing the new command cylinders in his hand: the three that were already programmed and the one that would only receive its code during the promotion ceremony itself. He’d touched the two rank bands on his sleeve, each edged in white. _Finally_. The power and authority vested in that change from blue to charcoal grey was real and tangible and _his_. And worth everything he’d done to get it. Every effort he’d made to clear the way, every quiet after-hours briefing against a rival, every lever pulled, every ruin observed, every death bulletin quietly and with satisfaction read.

 _Lieutenant General Hux,_ how wonderful that had sounded. And he’d known that, soon, when work on his glorious Starkiller started in earnest, he would be a full General.

And now here he was. The weapon was well on its way to completion, he had some of the very best officers and troopers stationed on the base and on the _Finalizer_ , and he had reached a rather particular kind of understanding with Kylo Ren. Poor little Armitage Hux really had done exceptionally well for himself after all.

He would consider Ren’s seeming fascination for the command cap another time. Perhaps he had only mentioned it in order to be aggravating. That was, with Kylo Ren, always a possibility.

 

***

 

The next day brought more meetings and reports, and more progress. It also brought another unasked for interruption from Kylo Ren.

“I’d like to see you,” Ren said. “In private. And soon.”

“Well, I’ll have to check my schedule.“ He tapped at his datapad. “I don’t have an open time slot today…”

“I’m sure you do.”

Hux sighed. “I can do between 1600 and 1625.” Before the conference call he had scheduled at 1630h. Cutting it a _little_ fine, but still. 

”Should I be grateful?”

“That’s the available slot, Ren.” It would be enough, for a quick one. Though it would be better if Ren could timetable these things a little further in advance. 

“Alright, General. 1600.”

“My office. Don’t be late.”

 

***

 

He wasn’t.

He was on him as soon as he was through the door, helmet cast aside, slotting a thigh between the general’s, hands everywhere, mouth hot.

“Keen, aren’t you?” Hux, not to be outdone, slid a hand under Ren’s outer layer to reach a neat, firm buttock. Ren made a soft grunt of pleasure and tilted his hips against him, making it very apparent that he was already hard. “I would have thought your powers enabled you to cope without it.”

“I hunger,” Ren said, eyes burning, lips hot. “I want. I need. What else is power, but the ability to get what we want?” Hux would have agreed verbally were it not for the hot open kisses Ren was pushing into his mouth. These turned into sloppy kisses along his jaw and teasing, nibbling kisses on his ears that had his cock getting heavier and harder in his breeches where Ren’s firm thigh pressed against it. 

By now, they had fifteen minutes, conservatively. Ren was already manoeuvring them towards the general’s desk, then turning and draping himself across it, pulling his surcoat and tunic up and aside.

“So _this_ is the order of business,” Hux said, catching his breath and licking his lips. He slid his hands up and down Ren’s thighs, over the shiny fabric of his leggings. Before he had enough time to appreciate the sight as it was, Ren had hitched his hips up and tucked a hand under his waist to undo the fastening. He half stood up again and wriggled the waistband down over his buttocks, taking his undershorts with them, down, down to his knees.

“I know what I want,” he said.

Ren, mighty and fearsome, was offering himself up, demanding to be mounted and taken. Right as he settled himself back over the desk, Hux slid a hand between his thighs, and up into the cleft of his arse. He was damp. Slick.

“ _Kriff_ , are you… you _are_ , you’re _ready_.”

Ren spread his legs a little more, nearly as far as his leggings around his knees would let them go, and his buttocks parted further. 

“Well observed, General.”

Hux pressed two fingers to him, and they paused only briefly at the entrance before slipping in. Kylo was relaxed and slick and obscenely open. “When did you do this to yourself?”

“Before I came here.” He glanced back over his shoulder, showing Hux half of a wicked, sharp toothed grin. “You like things easy and straightforward, don’t you?”

 _Maddening_. 

Hux loosened his belt and unfastened his breeches, letting them fall around his knees, and freed his cock from his underwear with a definite sense of urgency. Reaching down and brushing great draping curtains of Ren’s robes out of the way, he rummaged in a drawer for the bottle of lubricant he'd only recently started keeping there and hurriedly slicked himself up. 

Keeping his discipline, he pushed slowly in to the lovely velvety heat. Ren welcomed him in with a low sighing groan. With his hands on Ren’s hips, he supplied a regular rhythm. Soon Ren’s face was flushed pink, his mouth open, and his eyelashes fluttering against his cheek.

Hux varied his pace and Ren made soft throaty grunts of approval, before shifting a little under Hux and reaching one hand in under his body, towards his cock. 

“Mm, no, don’t touch,” Hux said, “not yet.”

Ren put his hands flat on the desk, obeying as he only ever did when under the spell of pleasure. It was a teasing little pantomime of being a good boy; and Hux suddenly had the wildest, maddest desire to spank him, a few quick slaps across a buttock, but doubt held him back. He settled for fucking him harder and faster, listening to his breaths and gasps coming harder and faster, feeling himself getting closer and closer.

He glanced at his desk chrono. Not much time. He tucked his hand onto Ren’s cock and gave it a few brisk strokes. Ren’s face contorted and he spilled, hopefully more onto onto his clothes than onto Hux’s desk. Hux followed soon after with a sort of grunting gasp. After a few long breaths, he slowly pulled out, then took two disposable wipes from a dispenser tucked in his drawer, and passed one to Ren.

His undershirt was sweaty at his back and clung slightly to his skin. It wouldn’t be ideal, sitting like that in his conference call, but he would tolerate it. His breeches, slightly creased from where they'd been bunched at the sweaty backs of his knees, wouldn’t be seen.

“Next time,” Ren said, “keep your little hat on.”

“No. I don’t think that would be appropriate.”

“I could… persuade you.” Ren deposited a scrunched up wipe in the trash chute and pulled up his trousers. He’d been walking around wet with lube beforehand, squelching damply in his undershorts no doubt. None of it seemed to bother him.

Hux made a dismissive little huffing noise. “I’m sure you could, but I’d rather you didn’t.”

“You’re so protective of your little hat.”

“It’s my command cap and it’s an important part of my uniform,” Hux said, taking a comb and neatening his hair. 

Ren smirked at him. 

“Stop that. It’s not a sex thing and it is not going to be a sex thing. My uniform means something. My command cap means something — it isn’t to be degraded.”

“You think I degrade you? Because we fuck each other?”

“It’s not… just leave it about the bloody hat, alright?”

“I like your boots too,” he said. “So shiny. So proper.”

“Of course they're shiny and proper — it’s basic kit drill. And basic respect for the uniform.”

Ren gave a low, wicked chuckle, and left.

 

***

 

So, Ren really did have _a thing_ for the command cap. Another odd perversion, typical of the curious decadent streak that wove through Ren next to his controlled violence and his mysticism. Hux wondered if he ought to blame Ren’s Republican background or his dark side powers for it. 

 

***

 

Next on the agenda was a mission to capture and interrogate a valuable enemy target. This man had links to several New Republic Navy officers who had gone AWOL and subsequently turned up in Resistance colours. He would, with appropriate pressure from Kylo Ren, bring them a great deal closer to uncovering the whole network. 

The mission could be summed up thus:

_Aim: to capture target and render target to the Finalizer for interrogation._

_Objectives: capture target alive. Capture target in fit state for questioning. Minimise damage to personnel and equipment. Get in, get job done, get out._

_Risks: Target may be armed and dangerous, and accompanied. Risk of ambush on the way to site._

_Mitigation: three squads of stormtroopers trained in close quarter urban combat. Kylo Ren._

The troops really ought to be able to handle everything. Kylo’s main role would be afterwards, in the interrogation room. 

He took an internal transport to Phasma’s “office” — it was more a glorified cubbyhole on the mezzanine of deck 19 overlooking the main stormtrooper training ground. She had the opportunity to have an office right next to Hux’s own, to plan out her campaigns, but she always protested that she needed to be near to her Troopers.  

He greeted her, and they exchanged salutes. Hux got right down to business.

“So. The plan for capture of Target 14.”

“Three squads in formation as two groups, one with heavy weapon specialist and electronics specialist, one with explosives specialist. We descend on the location at their dawn.” Phasma pulled up a plan on her viewscreen, and pointed to it with one chrome digit. “Coordinates here. There is a flat roof on a building opposite the target position. Minimally occupied at that time of day. Group A will land there and secure the building. Heavy weapon specialist will stay on the roof.” 

“And group B?”

“Land on the ground 70 metres to the south east of target position and proceed to target location, to flank it from both sides.”

“Kylo Ren will land at the same site as group B, I take it.”

“Yes, sir. Once we have secured the immediate area. His manner of approach does not afford him the element of surprise.”

“How much opposition do we foresee? Risk of ambush?”

“Some risk to group B. Heavy weapon specialist and two more soldiers will cover them from the roof.”

“Our troops can handle that. What about the target — we don’t believe he will be alone, do we?”

“There may be a Resistance presence guarding him — three or four hostiles maximum. Group A will go in from the front and tackle them, while group B distract with a small explosion and cover the rear and sides to prevent any escape.”

“Very good.” Hux looked at Phasma’s map and battle plan again. “How did sim run-through go?” 

“It went well. Path through to target site is standard as per training. I would caution, however, that we do not have a full picture of the interior of our target’s building.  Thermal lens on quadnocs will tell us a lot, but we do not know what we will find until we break down the door and get inside.”

Hux nodded thoughtfully. “The troops are prepared. I trust in them.”

“Group B are highly experienced — in real combat — and I am confident they will quickly put down any opposition.”

 “Good,” Hux said, ignoring Phasma’s subtext. “Ren has been, ah, briefed, has he?”

“Yes, sir. He requested some elements of the strategy.”

 

***

 

The _Finalizer’s_ course would soon be set for the mission target’s planet. In twenty two hours, two assault landers would be descending to the precise coordinates on Phasma’s map, in close formation with Kylo Ren’s shuttle. Hux sat at his desk and looked through a copy of the mission plan again, before returning to a set of engineering documents. 

He read a progress report sent by one of his Engineering Corps colonels, and compared modifications made with the original blueprints. He had some questions about strength and resilience testing of pipework in the conduit trenches that linked the thermal control system to individual containment field generators, and he requested the colonel to chase up and report back. They couldn’t afford much slippage in the schedule, but he wouldn’t tolerate risking everything because one set of pipework hadn’t been tested and signed off on.

That dealt with, he switched his console viewscreen to passive mode and pushed his datapad to one side. Sitting there at his desk, he couldn’t help but bring to mind the other uses he’d recently made of it.

Which meant there was Ren’s outrageous request to consider. It had been very clear: he wanted to have Hux wear his command cap while they had sex. Which was, or seemed to be on the face of it, inconceivable. Well, strictly speaking, Hux thought, correcting himself internally, a mental image of the scene _could_ be _conceived_ ; but it was a definite no-go zone.

They had had half-clothed sex before, indeed had done so only a few days before, with surcoats and tunics pushed out of the way, breeches around knees, et cetera. It had felt a little forbidden, a little naughty perhaps, but it had never seemed like a specific breach of uniform rules. Simply a means to an end when they were pressed for time. 

But, the cap. And Ren had also made mention of Hux’s boots. He was now forming a fairly clear picture of what Ren wanted. Hat, boots, and nothing else. He squirmed in his seat and fought back a blush. Was this how Kylo Ren worked his magic? He insinuated awful ideas into his victim’s mind, and didn’t let go. Naked from the boot up. Totally exposed.

Would he be bent over this very desk, as both of them had on occasion been? Or laid out over it, with his ankles up by Ren’s ears.

It would be better to be away from the workplace. Or would this perversion feel even less justifiable in his own quarters?

It occurred to him that Ren was going on this external mission. There was some risk involved. Perhaps when he came back, he might indulge him. Was this how it would be? Capture a key intelligence asset and I’ll dress up for you in bed?

No. This was madness. This must be Ren’s awful powers at work. Hux had thought himself practically immune, and had trained long and hard to resist. But he must be weaker than he had thought.

He pulled the cap from its little shelf under his desk and sat it on his hands. No. No. This could not be. He wouldn’t.

 

***

 

Once in his quarters, he tucked his gloves and cap into their niche beside the door, and hung his coat up behind them. He then removed his boots and lined them against the wall, replacing them then with a pair of indoor flat slippers.

He made himself a hot drink and sat at his desk. He would review a series of briefings from colleagues, reply to the day’s flagged correspondence, and then give a once-over to some readouts of computational fluid dynamics modelling of the thermal oscillator cooling system. Then he might see about any other business.

His boots and cap stayed untouched in their niche. By the time he thought again of his potential plan, he had already retired to bed.

 

***

 

At the end of the next day’s shifts, he again went about his routine of dinner, then private work reviewing documents and correspondence. This time, even as he worked, his thoughts kept going to his cap, and to Ren; and to how Ren had, if not begged, then asked so very nicely while he was bliss-drunk, his face all pink and damp and his hair in sweaty stringy locks around his neck.

He went to the refresher for his nightly ablutions, and the thought of his plan stayed with him. He rehearsed it in his mind. Socks and boots on, then coat, then cap. He would hopefully not feel too ridiculous. It was simply a matter of procedure.

But a rehearsal only in the mind might not be enough.

He dried off and combed his hair, then pulled on a fresh pair of socks, and his boots. Not for a long time had he been so conscious of the nakedness of his body; not even when he was next to Ren in all his glory. 

He needed to try moving: he wouldn’t be just stood still, letting Ren stare at him. So, he exhaled briskly and paced across the room, terribly conscious of his cock and balls swaying and jiggling between his thighs. The human body could be so absurd. And _this_ was what Ren wanted? 

The short journey across the room completed, he leant against the wall, elbows on the plasteel panelling, forehead on his fists. He could do this. He could. No matter how ridiculous. It was an undertaking like any other.

His greatcoat was by the door, on its hanger. He put it on. The inner satin lining was cool to the point of cold on his bare arms and arse cheeks. He picked up his cap and gloves, and carried them back into his bedroom. He would have felt a little more comfortable with his trouser-less gait, but for the touch of the coat’s lining on his buttocks. Disastrously, he caught sight of himself in the mirror, and immediately closed his eyes, turned his head and threw a hand up to cover his face.

How could he let himself be seen like this? How could Ren want to see this?

He pulled on his gloves, and, heart pounding now, his command cap.

Ren had asked for this: he would react favourably. That was actually a given. Hmm. Perhaps he would welcome him into his arms, kiss him with that mouth, grope at his buttocks with those big warm hands. Or maybe Ren would keep his gloves on and touch him like that. He would be fully clothed after all. All that rough fabric pressing against his naked skin. His cock started to stir, which had the potential to make his embarrassment even worse. He wouldn't look in the mirror again, not right at this second.

 

***

 

They were back. On their way back, at least. The operation had not gone as smoothly as predicted, and the troops had encountered unexpected pushback in the form of heavy fire from enemy elements concealed in a building adjacent to the target site. Injuries had been reported in the first message from the returning transporters. The whole intelligence situation would need to be reviewed, but first, General Hux would need to find out the actual facts from the men and women on the ground.

He checked the incoming flight maps, and Ren’s shuttle was approaching, followed by the troop transporters. He tapped his fingertips on the surface of his desk and watched the flight map for another few moments before abruptly standing and heading to the bridge. One could pace on the bridge.

 

***

 

Hux did not rush down to meet Ren from his shuttle when it docked. That would give the wrong impression.

Nevertheless, he fretted, just a little, while he heard a debriefing from a Stormtrooper sergeant. TS-1402 spoke very highly of his unit, and also of Ren’s performance under sudden heavy fire.

“He held the attack off well? No injuries other than the ones to TS-3438 and TS-1857 that you reported?”

“He did, sir. No other injuries. Commander Ren was able to hold off their fire, with the use of his saber. We traced the enemy fire to their position, and targeted them with TS-6234’s megablaster. Two enemy combatants eliminated, weapons recovered.”

“Very good. Full report to Captain Phasma.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hux then located Kylo Ren on his way to the interrogation suite, and fell into step beside him. 

“General. You’ve already been briefed.”

“I have. TS-1402 gave a preliminary report.”

“Precursor intelligence was incomplete. The troops weren’t expecting a second group of hostiles.“

“That was unsatisfactory and it will be dealt with. Did you sense them?”

“Only once under fire. I defended myself and your men, and located the enemy position.”

“Good. Thank you. Are you, um, alright, yourself?”

“Yes,” Ren said. “Of course.”

“Good. Good. When do you expect to finish questioning the prisoner?”

“I'll have names soon.”

“Of course. Keep me informed. I will talk to the Security Bureau section head and she will tell me why we missed what we missed.”

“I’ll find out who was in that second building and who put them there. Remember, General, nothing stays hidden from me.”  

“No. That’s good. Listen, assuming you’ll have concluded your interrogation by then, do you have anything important on your schedule tomorrow?”

“I don’t believe so.”

“Because I’d like you to come to my rooms, in the evening.”

Ren nodded briefly. 

“I'll let you get on,” Hux said. Ren was already striding away.

 

_Remember, General, nothing stays hidden from me._

 

***

 

Hux sent the invitation formally in the morning, by means of mouse droid, before descending to Starkiller for a full day of meetings and inspections. He felt that this way, it would be done, and he would be too busy to be tempted to rescind the invitation later. He had made his decision. 

On the ice planet, progress was good. Testing regime was catching up to schedule. With the right technicians, droids and proper document control, you really could do anything you set your mind to. Hux was always at his best when in the company of his engineers, and the day’s business kept him from feeling too much in the way of nerves or anticipation about what he planned to do in the evening.

Returning to the ship, he took a light dinner and retired early to his rooms.

 

***

 

Ren arrived, as invited, as summoned, helmet tucked in the crook of his arm. 

“Take a seat,” Hux said, indicating the flat couch.

Ren tilted his head. “This is very formal. Should I put this back on,” he asked, indicating his helmet.

“No, no need. But… oh, whatever, just… I’m asking you to wait, here, for a few minutes, and I will call you when I want you.”

“Yes. I’ll do that.” Ren sat on the couch and placed his hands on his knees, making a very deliberate play of waiting quietly. Like a good boy. Whether this was in mockery or in sincerity, Hux could not yet tell. 

Hux nodded, turned, and went into his bedroom. The door slid shut behind him. He took a breath, exhaled steadily, and removed his boots.

He’d done that run-through, on his own, and that had been hard enough. Now was _not_ the time to wonder if Phasma might have a point about simulations versus the reality on the ground.

After a few minutes, he strode, booted once again, to the door and it slid open. “You may come through now,” he said, and immediately turned his back. The layer of confident command with which he had overlaid the nervousness in his voice did not sit as comfortably as he might have hoped. 

He stood with his back to Ren, presenting a hopefully unremarkable arrangement of greatcoat, cap and boots. Until he turned around. From the back it had been impossible to tell that Hux’s uniform jacket and breeches were not present, and that beneath the greatcoat, he was naked.

Between the lapels of the greatcoat, his chest was entirely bare, as was his belly. He saw Ren’s eyes fall to the crux of his thighs, to the nest of flame orange hair in which sat, naked and uncovered and brought into contrast by the panels of dark gaberwool surrounding them, his balls and his partially hard cock. He felt terribly exposed.

Ren’s eyes were wide, and his mouth hung open. He sucked in a nascent thread of drool, and swallowed hard.

Hux monitored Ren’s gaze tracking further down, over his legs, thin and slender and bare, all the way down to his boots. Then up again, back up over his thighs and balls and cock and belly and chest, over his face, all the way to where his command cap crowned him.

“Hux,” Ren said, hoarsely. “You did this. You did this for me.”

“I did.”

Ren dropped to his knees. “This is —” and he swallowed again — “more than I had even imagined.”

Hux slipped his hand onto his chest, and Ren made a visible effort to breathe. He let his fingertips glide onto his belly then back up. Under the fabric of his coat, hidden from Ren, his hand brushed over his nipple, the sensation sudden, sharp and sweet. He withdrew his hand — he would let Ren look at him but not give him that particular show right now.

Instead, he turned and walked to the far corner of the room, leaving Ren wordless and waiting. A shrug, and the coat was off his shoulders, then onto a hanger, and he was naked but for cap and boots. As if he knew what to do next, he sat on the edge of the bed.

Ren looked up at him — at his body and, fixedly, with a stupid half smile, at the cap. Hux stared back. “How do you want me,” Ren asked, his voice thick.

“Take off your outer layers. I want to see you.”

 Ren did as he was asked, first loosening the side of his surcoat and pulling it over his head, then unfastening his tunic bit by bit. He pulled it off and stood in his undershirt, its thin fabric clinging to the contours of his body.

Hux licked and bit at his lower lip. “And that, too.” It came off. He always liked this part: the anticipation of Ren’s body, and the reveal. 

Ren knelt again and touched the general’s right boot, running his hands up it. Then he stood, still holding it, still holding eye contact. Was this the gaze that made strong men break? He had the boot over his shoulder now. He was breathing heavily, and, Hux saw, visibly aroused. His mouth hovered just above the leather of the boot. “Is this sufficient respect to the uniform?” he asked, before kissing it.

Words died in Hux’s throat. He could feel the light pressure of Ren’s kiss through the leather of his boot and the thin wool of his sock. It lingered even after Ren withdrew his mouth. 

Ren kissed the calf of Hux’s boot again, and unable to resist temptation, he undid his pants and shoved his hand down them. Eyes closed, he groped at his length.

Hux found his voice then. “Look at you, Ren. Can’t keep your hands off yourself.”

Ren opened his eyes and, maintaining eye contact, slowly and deliberately licked the boot.

“This is a terrible perversion,” Hux said, a little short of breath. “I don’t know why I indulge you in it.”

 

Ren's fingers clutched at the soft skin of Hux’s thigh. His tongue licked the boot again, from ankle to top. Then the kissing came, sloppy mouthing all the way up Hux's leg, from boot to knee to thigh. Finally, Ren sank down again and nuzzled against Hux’s inner thigh, with Hux’s cock now fat and warm against his cheek and his boot resting glossy and cool against his back. He looked up, his eyes dark and a light flush on his cheeks. “I think you want to command me. Don’t you.”  

Hux stared back. A flicker of doubt was quickly masked by defiance. “Alright, Ren. I’ll command you. I’ll command you to fuck me. Properly.” 

Ren’s breath was hot and heavy against Hux’s skin. 

Hux thought of more detailed instruction. “Stand up again, first,” he said, and Ren did. “Pants off now. Let me see what I’m going to get.”

Ren bent, unbuckled his boots, then toed them off. They tumbled to the floor with a dull clatter. He thumbed his already unfastened pants down over his hips, taking his underwear with them, over his hard cock, over his lean, powerful thighs, down and away. 

Hux’s eyes were fixed on the object of his desire, as Ren slowly stroked it with a loose fist. “That looks… more than adequate to the task.”

Ren stilled the hand on his cock and waited for further command. “Tell me what you want me to do,” he said.

“Where you were before. As you were.”

Ren knelt again, all the power of him crouching between Hux’s legs. He tipped Hux’s thighs forward to expose him, his cock, the delicate weight of his scrotum and behind it, his hole. “Let me kiss you. Make you wet.” 

Ren’s breath was hot on his balls, then his tongue dabbed, wet and gentle, and started to trace featherlight lines over them.

“I commanded you,” Hux said, breath catching in his throat, “to fuck me.”

“Want to do this first…”

He mouthed and sucked very gently on Hux’s balls, then let his tongue trail down the seam all the way to Hux’s waiting arsehole, only to kiss all around it. A gasp of frustration rewarded him. He kissed and licked, playing the flat of his tongue over it again and again, wet and teasing and delightful.

“Yes, you can lick me first, so long as…”

Ren probed with his tongue and dipped it right in, opening the way, thick and warm and wet. 

Hux stifled wordless noises as Ren’s tongue moved inside of him, sighed and panted when it slid out to lick insistent circles over him. “The slick is in the drawer,” he managed.

“Hmm?”

“The slick. Is in the drawer. Because I’m going to need your cock. Quite soon.” 

Ren licked and gently sucked at his rim, and his nose pressed against Hux’s inner thigh. 

“Ren, I love your tongue, but I’m going to insist.”

Finally, Ren went to the side of the bed, reached for the drawer and got the bottle he needed. He put himself back between Hux’s thighs, pumped a long drool of slick onto two of his fingers and circled them around Hux’s hole. Anticipation gave way to the sensation of one finger slowly sliding in, probing and pressing. He closed his eyes and savoured each delicious pleasure-ache Ren brought from his prostate. The second finger joined the first — thicker and heavier and Hux opened further to it, relaxing deeper into his want, letting Ren’s big fingers slide in and out and take up space inside him.

Ren knelt up on the bed and Hux shuffled back a little, propping himself up on his elbows. With a flick of his fingers, Ren summoned the bottle of lubricant back up to him. 

“You couldn't go without showing off your powers.”

“I know you like it.”

Despite his better judgement, Hux did. 

He tucked one leg back over Ren’s shoulder and folded the other one back on itself, then met Ren’s hungry gaze from under the shelter of the peak of the cap. “Go on,” he said, a little breathlessly, as Ren put himself in position, nudging the slippery head of his cock up against his rim. “Fuck me.”

And so Ren did: breaching him slowly, letting him open up further around him, pushing forward against the backs of his thighs. His eyebrows were gathered in concentration and his lower lip bitten.

Hux made quick, coarse exhalations of breath as Ren pushed in and filled him up. Warm, heavy pleasure flowed through him with Ren’s slow strokes, from surface to depth to surface.

“Come on Ren, give me more. I want the best — the absolute _best_ fucking anyone has ever received.”

Ren went deeper and rolled his hips. Hux leant back and hummed and moaned, his dick wet against his belly. He nudged him with a boot. “Ren! More, and _harder_ … do it _properly_ ,” and he laughed to himself when Ren responded, just with simple glee at being so daring and so bold.

Ren’s cock got him in just the right place, and he gasped, eyes wide. Ren rocked and rolled his hips into him, and Hux gave him another kick of encouragement, slapping the instep of his boot hard against Ren’s backside. He was getting what he wanted, getting to be brim full of him, with all his power and mystery. _Having_ him. His strong-bodied, powerful knight, doing as he was bid.

“Ren,” he said, “ _Kylo_ ,” and his words were knocked out of him by more glorious fucking, thighs slapping against buttocks in earnest.

In the vigour of it all, his cap came off. Hux let his head droop back on the bed, where it fell half-in half-out of the shell of the cap. Since he was all undone now, there was nothing to stop him bringing his hand onto his chest and closing his fingers around his nipple to roll and pinch. 

Ren kept going, his hair in sweat-damp curtains around his face, his eyes wide and dark as he watched Hux pull and tweak in time with his thrusts. “Tell me how that feels,” he muttered, voice low and breathless.

“It’s good,” he gasped.  “So good…”

Hux felt his orgasm approaching, intensifying, and there was nothing except the feeling inside him, between his prostate and the base of his cock, and the sweet electric sensation at his nipple.

“Ren, I’m… oh… _fuck_ …” and then there was only a yelp of near-desperate joy, and a twitching cock spilling onto his own chest. He felt Ren pulsing inside of him, heard his shout, saw the lights in the room flicker wildly — and he felt a glowing rush of pride at that; at the fact that he, with his body and his self, had been enough to have Kylo Ren coming so hard.

 

***

 

Ren lay, exhausted, beside him, and reached out to brush one loose strand of hair from his forehead. “You liked that too,” he said, and traced a finger along the brim of Hux’s cap.

“I did.”

“Would you do it again?”

Hux considered, shrugging his body back against the mattress. “Perhaps I would.”

“Did you change your mind because I captured Target 14?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Hmm. Was it because I’d been good and brought you back a prisoner, or was it because you thought I was in danger?”

“I didn’t think you were in danger. Not, well, not as such.”

“Hmm.” Ren sat up slightly and picked up the cap. He contemplated it briefly, then put it on his head.

Hux, quite naturally, was outraged. “Take it off! You can’t wear that!”

Ren grinned at him, and let him take the cap back.

**Author's Note:**

> Art by [squire](http://archiveofourown.org/users/squire/pseuds/squire) / [sinningsquire](https://sinningsquire.tumblr.com) (click for bigger versions, you'll also find high res versions on their blog soon and I'll edit this note to put links here) 
> 
> I was quite taken by their prompt description of Hux wearing only hat and boots, sitting on the edge of a bed with one leg up over Kylo's shoulder.


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